Slates & Such
by soaper410
Summary: A quick view of Rayna's 1st person thoughts from about a month from now, or at least what I hope her thoughts are. *Small Potential Spoilers for Episodes 3 x 5-3x 7 but mostly just what I wish would happen


I hear the hotel door click behind me and shake my head to try and un-jumble my thoughts. It is a few days before our Thanksgiving break and I don't know if I'm happy or sad about that. Of course I want to see my girls. But lately, every time I see them everything goes to hell in a hand basket. I can't do anything right as far as Maddie is concerned. Then Daphne acts like a completely different person than my usual sweet 10 year old. Normally there is an awkward conversation between Maddie and Luke at some point followed by me having to play referee.

Being on the road is easier. Well it was easier until I let my brain start wandering in all kinds of directions. I rationalize that I'm just out of sorts. I've been this way since Luke surprised me in Baltimore last week.

I told Luke I wanted to order in pizza and spend the whole night in my warm hotel room. Luke had to ask me what kind of pizza I wanted. It hit me then that Luke doesn't know the kind of pizza I like. It sounds junior high and completely insane but it bothers me that I had to tell Luke what I like.

Since then, my mind has been in overdrive. We've never spent Thanksgiving together or Christmas for that matter. He doesn't know the girls' middle names or that I'm allergic to avocado. Luke's idea of Lamar Wyatt comes from magazines and election results. He has no clue what my mother's favorite songs were or that I still make angels in the snow. He doesn't what movies I love to watch. He has no clue what makes me feel better when I'm sick. Some are stupid things, little things. But it has been bothering me more and more lately.

But this is what I wanted. A clean slate. That means everything is new, not just the bad stuff.

I keep trying to convince myself that this is exciting. Most lovers enjoy finding out more about the other. Secrets and hidden gems are part of growing closer together, growing as part of a couple.

Clean slates were exciting and shiny and new. At the thought of shiny, I look down at my hand. The ring is damn shiny. It is a beautiful ring. A new ring is what I wanted. It's a ring that I didn't throw back at someone during a drunk stupor. It's a ring that didn't spend the last fifteen years in the hidden drawer of my jewelry box. This ring doesn't make my stomach clinch when I see it. I don't have a flood of memories and emotions when I look at it. But maybe that is a good thing. It's an engagement ring, not a rollercoaster. I should feel happy when I look at my engagement ring and I do with this one. Happy. Not overjoyed, not overcome with emotion. Happy. Okay happy is not the right word. Glad seems like a more appropriate word. Yes, that is it. Glad.

I look around my hotel room and sigh. My muscles are tense and sore at the same time. Thirty days into my tour and I am already aching. I've always done television and radio shows with the concerts, but this is overdrive. The in-store appearances, the personal appearances for the VIPs, the local news stations interviews, the paper features in every town. Perhaps it is my age or everything else happening right now, but this tour is completely exhausting.

I walk into the master suite bathroom. There are supposedly six bathrooms in total but I haven't even bothered to look around this place. There is a little note, written on scented parchment paper, letting me know my "bathroom butler" is on 24 hour standby. Apparently some man will come up and turn my water on for me. I throw the parchment on the floor and hit the Jacuzzi setting. I undress slowly, my bones ache and I'm dog tired.

As I unhook my bra, the words 'clean slate' echo in my brain. I'm trying, God I'm trying. Maddie's anger at me seems to have subsided some. She's now become almost melancholy. It reminds me of the times that Deacon would grow quiet and so introspective. Those were normally the times when he'd he felt so far away from me, away from reality. Those were also the times that Deacon's drinking was at its worst. It scares me a little that Maddie is beginning to act the same way. Still she's a teenager who has been through a hell of a time lately.

At least she isn't behaving like I did at her age. I was sneaking away in the middle night and going to bars. Hell, Maddie is going to be sixteen in eleven months. That is how old I was when I met Deacon. Then I went from a rebel to flat out crazy. It was all about the music and Deacon back then. Everything was so heightened back then, everyday was a war between the world and the two of us. Daddy and the business were two of our enemies. Those were fun fights, good fights. Deacon and I were fighting for our voices, our music, our love.

But there were the bad fights too. The ones with brown liquor and broken things: hearts, spirits, furniture.

As I settle into the hot water, I remind myself this is exactly why I need a clean slate. I don't have a single memory of Luke staring out the window with a fifth of something in one hand and a broken guitar in the other. That is a good thing.

I say it aloud as if I need it to be confirmed. "It is a good thing."

At least Daphne seems happy. Sure she's acting like a stranger but she smiles. That is one up on Maddie. Of course, she is ten years old and is getting to a bridesmaid in the biggest wedding of the year. Every time I talk to her, all she can talk about are shoes and how she wants to wear her hair. Her excitement is contagious. Perhaps, I should take her along with me when I'm making wedding decisions.

The wedding is only two months away but for the life of me I can't even think about it. Actually, that's not true. It is all I think about. But I can't picture it. I haven't been able to make myself pick a wedding dress. I did try on a few. They were all beautiful, custom designed. But none of them seemed right. Luke guessed I just hadn't found the perfect dress yet. It almost feels like once I find a dress, correction the dress, everything else will fall into place. Any lingering doubts I have will be gone, any worries about pizza choices will be gone. The truth is, I'm not sure it exist.

At the least the flowers are picked. Well and we have the venue too. I try to convince myself the wedding planning is almost done. It isn't. We haven't even picked out invitations yet. The truth is, I keep thinking if I just find the right dress, it will make everything else fall into place. I will be able to picture myself marrying Luke and it will feel good and right. That is a hell of a lot of pressure for one dress. It's a dress that I'm not sure exists.

I was better at planning my wedding with Teddy. That was easier. Back then, I had a mission, a purpose: get married for Maddie.

I picked out the dress on my first on and only visit to this sweet bridal boutique in downtown Nashville. I had a white empire waist dress within an hour. By the afternoon after my engagement, I picked lilac and white roses for that wedding. Daddy got the gazebo at the Country Club and then the library for a small reception. Tandy picked out her own dress and got a photographer. Teddy chose his own tuxedo. We had raspberry filled buttercream for the small wedding cake. It had seemed so simple back then. Looking back, everything just came together so damn quickly. Two weeks after proposing, Teddy and I were at the County Clerk's office, getting our marriage license.

I put my hand in front of the jets of the Jacuzzi jets. I scold myself. A clean slate means no thinking back about other weddings either. No thinking about how grateful I was to Teddy for loving us both. No thinking about how I'd already blown my vows for "better or worse" once before. No thinking about the tears I cried on my wedding day for the man I wasn't marrying. No worrying about Deacon would take the news when he heard.

I scold myself again. This is not a clean slate. This is me jumbling things up in my head. Luke loves me. I love Luke. We are getting married. That is a good thing. I remind myself of the romantic dinner Luke surprised me with a few years back. There had been that oysters and champagne and jazz music playing in the background. Then right before we went to bed he told me that he'd never been happier. He actually said I made him happier than anyone else in his life.

I told him that he made me happy too. Luke does make me happy. A pang of guilt jabs my chest. It isn't the happiest I've ever been. No, the happiest, I'd ever been was…

I smack the water and stand up. What the hell is wrong with me? Clean slate, damn it.

Quickly, I dry myself off and change into my pajamas. I call down to my personal butler. The kitchen is closed but for me they will make an exception. I should order a salad. I need to get my figure into my non-existent wedding gown. Instead I order chicken fingers and steak fries.

I check my phone more out of habit than actually wanting to call anyone. Juliette has sent me a series of text messages. Things aren't any better between her and Avery. I can't help but feel sorry for them both. He's hurt. She's devastated. She's also pregnant. I know what being terrified and pregnant feels like. I also know how truly lonely it can be, having another person inside of you and her father feeling like he's a million miles away.

I run my hands through my hair, annoyed that my clean slate seems to be missing in action.

I pick up my phone and tap on the buttons. It would be so easy to just click on Deacon's name. Part of me wonders if he would actually pick up. He'd probably pick up if some girl was within earshot. I scold myself for being jealous. I'm not jealous. I'm not jealous of some imaginary girl that Deacon may or may not be with.

I push Tandy's name to talk to her but after four rings, I get her voicemail. I hang up. I slide through my contacts and look at Deacon's name. But thankfully I hear a knock at the door and realize my food has arrived.

Ten minutes later, I've eaten four fries. I'm not hungry. Hell, I feel downright sick. I pick up my phone again but lay it down before I make any irrational phone calls. I warn myself to think. Think about my clean slate.

With Luke, we've only sung one song together. It is a song with only good memories attached. Sure we didn't write it ourselves but it is a good song. Not great, but good. When I sing that song, it doesn't make me want to jump off stage completely turned on or completely devastated.

Yet that seems to be a tick against him.

I remind myself of all the things that Luke has done for me. He helped me find my voice again, literally. He makes me smile. He takes me shooting. He loves that I love sparkly dresses. Anytime Luke says he coming over or coming to a show, he actually makes it there. On time and sober too.

I look up at the ceiling and feel my eyes pooling with tears. Luke and I never lived in a one bedroom apartment with no hot water at the corner of Loman and Travis Street. We've never done duets at the Opry or written a Grammy award winning song together. We've never snuck away to Mexico or snuck into the Country Club swimming pool. We've never clung to each other like a life line. We've don't have a spot that is just ours. I try to remind myself of the nights I spent driving around, desperate to find Deacon.

Instead I keep remembering what he whispered against my neck the night I was supposed to go with Liam. I keep imagine some winter night with the girls and Deacon, singing and cooking around the fireplace. I tear up and will myself not to cry.

My stomach rolls with worry.

It takes me another fifteen minutes of walking around the couch before I can finally admit something to myself. There is no magic wedding dress. There is no clean slate.

I breathe heavily in and out for a few minutes. In my head, I'm already planning how this is going to happen. When Teddy and I finally filed for separation, I purposefully didn't tell Deacon. I didn't realize how hurt Deacon was that I didn't tell him before the rest of the world found out. I don't want that to happen again. So first, I will tell Deacon. He deserves to know that he wasn't wrong, I was.

Then I will tell Luke the truth. We can announce the wedding is being pushed back to an unknown time. We will claim it is due to scheduling problem. The paparazzi will start to speculate that something is not right in "Ruke paradise." Then in a few months, Luke and I will issue a joint statement. It will be brief, asking for privacy and a generic "We just drifted apart" line.

I call Bucky, waking him up in the process. I tell him that I need to figure out a way to see Luke ASAP. I don't care if it's a commercial flight or a private jet I have to pay for. Bucky says that it will be at least three weeks. I tell Buck, it better be tomorrow or the day after that at the latest. I hang up and collapse on the leather couch.

I cry when I realize that I'm going to break Luke's heart. He doesn't deserve this. He's a good guy who is going to be crushed over this. Then I cry harder when I realize I'm a few days from finally having what I have wanted for years, for decades. That it if Deacon can get past me walking away again. I shake my head. I spend an hour worrying over how this will affect Highway 65. It is selfish but my career and my house are on the line.

I worry over how the girls will deal with this. In truth, Maddie will probably be doing jumping jacks, but the press will probably be awful for a while. Both of my girls will be hounded by those damn photographers every day at school and at home. Well they'll be hounded even more.

It amazes me that I've planning the end of the engagement makes me feel better than planning our actual wedding.

It just reaffirms to me that I'm making the right decision. I feel lighter in a way, like the hard decision has to been made and I just need to follow through now.

It's nearly three a.m. when I finish my cold chicken fingers and fries. Deacon's probably asleep. Well he's at least in bed. Probably with a roadie skank with a rose tattoo and a bad dye job. I have absolutely no right to be jealous. I know that. Hell, he has every right to sleep with who he wants and throw it in my face if he chooses. Doesn't mean I have to like it. I want to talk to Deacon but I'm afraid I'll hear his voice, laced with sleep and sex. So instead type out a quick text message. I push send before I can talk myself out of it.

I won't know it then but fifteen months from now, he'll quote that text message back to me. I'll be wearing a dress that I feel in love with the second I saw it. The flowers I'm holding will be hydrangeas from the bushes on the side of the house. Maddie will be beaming and Daphne giggling through the whole ceremony anxious for the "gross kissing part". There won't be invitations sent out. Instead, the nine people we love most in the world would have known the date for weeks. The venue will be perfect: our newly renovated cabin. The meal will be a BBQ and sweet tea. Our reception will include Juliette and Scarlett singing a duet they wrote for us and Deacon tearfully singing "A Life That's Good" to me.

But for now, I just stare at my phone. I read and re-read the message I sent him, "I don't need a clean slate. Maybe just a hi-lighter to focus on the good." I remind myself to breathe, remind myself he's probably asleep as the minutes tick on.

Then eight long minutes later I get a text message back. "Is a yellow hilighter okay or you want another color?"


End file.
